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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320495">Anklet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:02:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindir’s spoiled.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elrond Peredhel/Lindir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Anklet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their guests are pleasantly courteous in the way that only other elves are: they don’t leave the muddy footprints that Men drag everywhere or the crumbs dwarves scatter about. They tidy their own quarters before they go, and they make their own way out, though many follow them to the gates, pestering them about all that they achieved and what they plan to forge in the future. Several small trinkets are freely given out—simple rings and necklaces and other such jewelry. Lindir oversees their departure and has every chance to secure some of his own accessories, but he politely declines each gift offered. He’s only a simple servant, and he knows he doesn’t deserve pieces from such renowned artisans. </p><p>Besides that, despite being no more than a humble low-born minstrel, all of his jewelry is of the finest quality, deliberately designed and crafted solely for him. He has no need of anymore. He adores the pieces already in his possession, but not for their value: instead, for what they represent. Every one was given to him by the lord he loves, and he treasures them for it. </p><p>When the guests have gone, Lindir recounts their steps, checking that all has been tidied for the next arrivals. Their quarters are in good shape and the kitchens have already begun restocking what they went through. Lindir is able to visit his lord’s office relatively early in the evening—that is where they spent the bulk of their time, and doubtless some of Elrond’s work has fallen behind because of it. Lindir is capable of managing most of it. He wraps on the door and is told, “Come in.”</p><p>Inside, Lord Elrond is seated behind his desk, bent over a letter, quill in hand. There are a few papers out of place along the different surfaces, and the rug across the hardwood floor will need a bit of sweeping, but it isn’t particularly bad. Lindir automatically drifts towards the closet that stores his supplies, such as his broom, and on the way he asks, “How was your visit, my lord?”</p><p>“Lovely,” Elrond answers. His chair scrapes back, and Lindir hears his footsteps coming closer. For the moment, Lindir leaves the broom where it is, instead turning to face his lord. Elrond holds something out, drawing Lindir’s gaze. “They brought the piece that I commissioned. I rather like the finish, though the real test will be how it looks on you.”</p><p>It’s a golden circlet, intricately woven in a complex pattern, complete with several gems that catch the setting sun. Lindir’s eyes go wide, and he’s frozen as Elrond lifts it to his forehead, gently settling it around the crown of Lindir’s head. Elrond adjusts it so that it lies centered, and Elrond’s skillful fingers smooth out the dark hair beneath it. When it’s finished, Elrond seems to examine the picture, deciding, “You look beautiful, my songbird.”</p><p>Lindir can feel his cheeks staining bright red. He has to bite the inside of his lip to control his smile. He bows his head, careful not to dislodge it, only wanting to be respectful. The circlet has a pleasant weight to it: nothing difficult, but enough to be a reminder that it’s <i>there</i>: physical proof of his lord’s affection. It warms Lindir to his very core. He opens his mouth, meaning to gush his gratitude, but winds up blurting, “My lord, I... I cannot possibly keep accepting these...” He’s flattered, of course. Incredibly so. He’s so <i>happy</i>. But sometimes Elrond treats him like a prince when he’s no more than a minstrel. “You spoil me...”</p><p>Elrond’s hand falls from Lindir’s crown, gliding down his cheek, ducking to cup his chin. Lindir’s breath hitches as he’s tilted up: forcing their eyes to meet. Elrond’s smile is soft and kind, yet so <i>strong</i> and sure—all things that Lindir loves about him. Elrond quietly asks, “What is the point of being lord, if I cannot shower those precious to me in the treasures they deserve?”</p><p>Lindir practically trembles. It’s an effort not to melt into Elrond’s arms. He murmurs, “Thank you. Thank you, I... I am honoured.”</p><p>Elrond nods. Then he tilts his head and leans forward, brushing his lips over Lindir’s. Lindir opens wide before he can stop himself, bidding Elrond’s entrance, and as soon as Elrond’s tongue slips into his mouth, he’s moaning loud. He knows it’s horribly inappropriate but can’t help himself. Elrond is his greatest weakness. </p><p>Elrond tenderly explores his mouth for a few blissful seconds, and then it’s over. Elrond draws away. He relinquishes his hold on Lindir’s face and murmurs, “You may clean my office tomorrow, Lindir. Tonight, I have more gifts to give you.”</p><p>Lindir’s unworthy. But he’s unable to protest. In a daze, he nods, and he actually whines when Elrond’s hand slips over his. A little squeeze is all he’s given, and then Elrond isn’t touching him at all. Elrond steps back, turns, and leaves.</p><p>Lindir licks his lips. He should stay behind and tidy, do his duties, not sully his lord’s private chambers with his pitiful presence. </p><p>But Lindir is a creature desperately in love, and he boldly follows his lord.</p>
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